Kira sat on her bed, her new sword resting in her lap. She smiled down at the weapon, her fingers trailing lightly along the razor-sharp blade. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had such a nice day—but the sword wasn't even the best thing Mizu had gotten her.
After the weapons shop, they'd visited several jewelry stands. Mizu had bought her a beautifully crafted jade hairpin, which now held her ebony hair in a loose, elegant ponytail.
Warmth spread through her chest and lower stomach just thinking about it.
A sudden knock snapped her from her thoughts.
"It's open," she said, already guessing who it could be.
The door creaked open, and Kjell stepped in.
"Where have you been all day?" he asked.
"Shopping." She smirked and held up her sword.
"No way," he said, eyes wide. "Let me see!"
He inspected the blade thoroughly, as if the farmer's son knew anything about swords.
"How did you afford that, Kira? That thing looks expensive."
She grinned mischievously. "I have some connections."
Kjell raised a brow, face turning serious. "I hope you didn't do anything to earn favor with an elder." He wiggled his brows.
"Shut up," she barked, laughing. "Nothing like that, you swine."
"I wouldn't judge you," he said with a dramatic sigh. "I'd do it too, if it meant getting a sword like that."
They both burst into laughter.
"Look at mine," he whined, showing her a semi-sharp metal stick. "Got it for three spirit stones."
"Well, at least it'll do its job," she said, trying to cheer him up.
"Wanna spar?" he asked, a twinkle in his eyes.
She grinned back. "Do you even have to ask?"
Together, they strolled along the well-lit path to the riverbank, Kjell talking nonstop as usual.
"So?" he asked. "What place are you aiming for in the tournament?"
"What kind of question is that?" she snorted. "First place, of course."
He laughed. "Then let's face each other in the final."
"Don't expect any mercy," she teased, giving him a playful shove.
"Let's see if you even have the skill to last that long," he shot back.
They reached the river and found a clearing covered in lush grass.
The twin moons hung high, casting an ethereal glow over the scene.
Kira drew her sword. It hummed softly, reflecting the moonlight in gleaming silver.
"Um… have you ever used a sword before?" Kjell asked, scratching his head.
"Nope," she said with a shrug. "You?"
"Nope." He laughed.
"Maybe we shouldn't use sharp weapons on our first try. One of us might not live to see the tournament."
"Good point. Sheaths on?"
"Agreed."
They began sparring, both hilariously unskilled with a blade. Round after round, they improved—awkward swings becoming tighter, more intentional. Neither used Qi.
Kira struggled against Kjell's superior strength, but made up for it with agility and precise footwork, employing her Gale Steps technique.
Their rhythm smoothed out, a dance of trial and error, sweat and laughter.
Kjell supplemented his strikes with earth techniques, granting him impressive strength and stability.
After a few hours, they collapsed on the grass. Kjell pulled out a gourd of water from his pouch.
"Let's spar every second day until the tournament," Kira suggested.
"Why every second?"
"Because we need time to cultivate and train solo."
"Ah, good point." He chuckled and fell back onto the grass.
"Can you believe we're actually here?" he asked, gazing up at the stars. "Cultivators, like the ones from stories."
Kira lay back beside him. "Not really," she said honestly. "A few days ago, I was begging on the streets… and now I'm already stronger than the best warriors in our village. It's surreal."
"Your life sucked," he chuckled. "But I feel you. I was just working the fields."
"At least you have a family," she murmured.
"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—"
"It's all right. Don't apologize for having a family." She smiled faintly.
"Do you know what happened to yours?"
"They said my parents died during our village's last famine. But I don't remember them. I think it's better that way."
"Why?"
"Can't miss what you never knew."
"Man… that's sad."
"Let's change the topic," he said, awkwardly. "I totally ruined the mood."
"Oh, I'm sorry my life ruined your mood." She raised an eyebrow.
"That's not what I meant."
"I know," she drawled.
"Let's head back. We'll need to train hard tomorrow. As lowly peasants, we've gotta work twice as hard as those rich sect brats."
"Not all of them are brats," Kira said.
"Oh?" he asked. "You mean the mysterious 'connection' that bought you your sword?"
"Yes," she replied with a soft smile.
"Be careful, Kira. Those rich young masters flaunt their wealth, and poor pretty girls get impressed. But they only want one thing. Believe me—I'm a guy. I know how they think."
She chuckled. "Good thing she isn't a guy, then."
"Ooh, I see." He laughed.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. Let's go."
They walked in silence for a while, until—
"So you think I'm pretty?" she asked with a teasing smirk.
"Huh? What?" He laughed, flustered.
"You said men flaunt their wealth for pretty girls."
"Ah…" he said, understanding. "Well, yeah. I'm not blind. But you're not my type—sorry." He grinned.
"Oh? And what is your type?"
He sighed. "There was this girl in my village. She was always super mean. I don't know… I kinda liked that."
She shot him a look. "I know just the girl for you, then."
"Maybe introduce me after the tournament," he teased.
"You have no chance."
"You'd be surprised."
When they arrived at their quarters, they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.
Kira collapsed into her bed, her mind drifting into a vivid dream—of a certain bubbly girl.